The eyes of Jan Norris scan the night, bore through the darkness as if it were broad daylight. Jan to the rescue! Jan's revenge! Watch out, Leone della Rota, the night has mischief in store for you. Be careful, Leone della Rota, now is not the time to succumb to the love of a woman and the strong wine of Sicily! Look out for your ship, Leone della Rota, watch out--watch out for the black galley! On board the Andrea Doria all commands had been issued and carried out. In another three hours the galleon would make its way to the rendezvous point with the four galleys that had already sailed at Biervliet and then the chase in pursuit of the black galley would begin. The crew were using the short respite that had been afforded them to sleep, even the watch on deck were sleeping and the lantern of the man on the gangplank had gone out like all the other lights on board. Was the ship not safe at anchor under the city walls and the walls of the citadel? Suspended from the mainmast the ship's lantern throws an unsteady and flickering light over the deck. From the windows of the cabin a dim light falls on the dark waters of the Scheldt, which are streaming past it. In the cabin Leone della Rota stands up at Antonio Valani's bedside. "It's over," he says. "He's dead. Can you hear me, bella Fiaminga, dead and Leone della Rota is captain on this ship. Can you hear me, my sweet? I'm coming into my own--you too belong to me. With my friend's last breath you became mine." Once again Leone filled the tumbler with wine. "Why do you turn away and tremble, beautiful Myga? He's dead. His heart has beat its last. But my heart beats like a hammer, out of control. He was my friend in life. Now, by loving you, I avenge his death." He lifted the tumbler and emptied it in one. "A toast, my poor Antonio--you will have on the high seas the grave of a noble sailor. They won't be burying you on land in a hurry. You'll sleep instead below the joyful waves as befits a child of Genoa. You'll fall asleep in the arms of Neptune's daughter." "Have pity on me, Lord, let me die. Save me, save me," whimpered the despairing girl, but Leone, now drunk, laughed aloud shrilly. "Don't look at me like that, my queen--today you belong to me, tomorrow you'll belong to someone else--, that's war, that's life. Do you think I ought to mourn and mumble prayers like a priest over the corpse of my friend? If we were on the shore of the Ligurian Sea, we'd weave roses and myrtle into our hair to celebrate the beauty of the night! In the name of vengeance, in the name of victory, come into my arms, you wanton beggar woman, come and be mine, you pretty heretic."